A Merry Devil - Launcelot Gobbo in the Merchant of Venice A Merry Devil: Launcelot Gobbo in The Merchant of Venice From The Fools of Shakespeare by Frederick Warde. London: McBride, Nast & Company. In that delightful comedy, "The Merchant of Venice," we have a type of the shrewd but ignorant serving man, or boy, drawn on the same lines as Launce and Speed in "The Two Gentlemen of Verona," and the two Dromios, in "The Comedy of Errors," but apparently younger and less matured than either of them. His name is Launcelot Gobbo, a fact of which he is somewhat proud. He has a crude philosophy and a rude kind of wit. He uses big words and misapplies them most ingenuously. He is good-natured, full of fun, and rejoices in a practical jest. Launcelot is the servant to Shylock, a wealthy Jewish merchant and money lender of Venice, with whom he lives and of whom he stands in wholesome awe.

His fun-loving nature, however, has served to brighten the dull and dreary home of that stern and revengeful gentleman, a fact that Jessica, the Jew's daughter, frankly acknowledges in her first interview with the boy. Our house is hell, and thou a merry devil Did'st rob it of some taste of tediousness. Launcelot does not appear until the second scene of the second act of the comedy, when we find him stealthily leaving his master's house. We learn that he feels aggrieved at some apparent wrong at the hands of his employer, and is debating whether to remain in his service, or to run away. His soliloquy or self-argument on the point is most entertaining. He would be just, but being both plaintiff and defendant, as well as advocate and judge of the question at issue, he can scarcely be credited with impartiality. However, the motives that he frankly acknowledges, and the reasons he advances are most delightfully human, and most humorously expressed. The entire passage is a quaint, and by no means unnatural, self-contention between duty and inclination; the conclusion, as a matter of course, being in favor of inclination.

Certainly, my conscience will serve me to run from this Jew, my master: the fiend is at mine elbow, and tempts me, saying to me, "Gobbo, Launcelot Gobbo, good Launcelot, or good Gobbo, or good Launcelot Gobbo, use your legs, take the start, run away." My conscience says - "No; take heed, honest Launcelot; take heed, honest Gobbo; or," as aforesaid, "honest Launcelot Gobbo; do not run; scorn running with thy heels." - Well, the most courageous fiend bids me pack; via! says the fiend; away, says the fiend; for the heavens rouse up a brave mind, says the fiend, and run.

Well, my conscience, hanging about the neck of my heart, says very wisely to me - "my honest friend Launcelot, being an honest man's son" - or rather an honest woman's son; - for, indeed, my father did something smack, something grow to, - he had a kind of taste; - well, my conscience says - Launcelot, budge not;" "budge," says the fiend; budge not," says my conscience. Conscience, say I, you counsel well; fiend, say I, you counsel well; to be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with the Jew, my master, who, Heaven bless the mark! is a kind of devil; and, to run away from the Jew, I should be ruled by the fiend, who, saving your reverence, is the devil himself: certainly, the Jew is the very devil incarnation, and, in my conscience, my conscience is but a kind of hard conscience, to offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew : the fiend gives the more friendly counsel! I will run; fiend, my heels are at your commandment, I will run.

However, Launcelot does not run; he is spared that violence to his conscientious scruples by the unexpected advent of his father, an old Italian peasant, whose voice is heard calling in the distance, and halts the would-be runaway. Launcelot's decision of character is not very marked, nor his resentments very strong, for in a moment his wrongs are forgotten, and he is designing a practical jest on his aged parent.

"O heavens!" he exclaims, "this is my true-begotten father; who, being more than sand-blind, high-gravel-blind, knows me not: - I will try confusions with him." Old Gobbo, bent with age, almost blind, and feeling his way by the aid of a staff, hobbles on the scene; he carries a small basket on his arm, and in a voice of "childish treble" cries: "Master young gentleman, I pray you, which is the way to master Jew's?" Launcelot takes the old fellow by the shoulders, and turns him first to the right, then to the left, and finally completely round, giving him the following, somewhat confusing directions: "Turn up on your right hand at the next turning, but at the next turning of all, on your left; marry, at the very next turning, turn of no hand, but turn down directly to the Jew's house." Small wonder that the old man exclaims: "By God's sonties, 'twill be a hard way to hit." However, he is seeking and most anxious to find his son, and as soon as he has recovered from the jolting he has received at the

 hands of his demonstrative informant, he asks him the following most extraordinary and confusing question: "Can you tell me whether one Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell with him, or no?" This is excellent matter for the boy to try confusions with, so he answers question with question, prefacing it, however, with an aside, "Mark me now; now will I raise the waters.

Talk you of young Master Launcelot?" But the old man will not admit that his son is entitled to the dignity of "Master" Launcelot: so that eccentric young gentleman, who certainly has a novel sense of humor, tells him that his son is dead.

The sincere grief of the old man evidently shames the boy, for he quickly changes his tone, and asks: "Do you know me, father?" Old Gobbo pitifully replies: "Alack, sir, I am sand blind; I know you not." This induces some shrewd observations from Launcelot, which are worthy of note: "If you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child." Launcelot then kneels down with his back to his father, and continues: "Give me your blessing: truth will come to light, murder cannot be hid long, a man's son may, but in the end truth will out." The old man has been deceived once and hesitates; upon which Launcelot exclaims with some impatience: "Pray you, let's have no more fooling about it, but give me your blessing; I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that is, your child that shall be." Still the old man is not convinced, and protests: "I cannot think you are my son." To which Launcelot answers: "I know not what I shall think

 of that; but I am sure Margery, your wife, is my mother." This is conclusive, and Old Gobbo proceeds to lay his hand upon his son's head to give him his blessing; but Launcelot having knelt with his back towards him, the paternal hand encounters the back of the boy's head which is crowned with a luxurious growth of hair, and causes the old man to exclaim: "Lord worshipp'd might he be!

what a beard thou hast got: thou hast got more hair on thy chin than Dobbin, my fill-horse, has on his tail." Which informs us, that though "exceeding poor," Gobbo is sufficiently well off to own a shaft horse, and as he subsequently states, he has brought a dish of doves as a present to Launcelot's master, we may infer that he and his wife Margery cultivate a piece of ground, or a small farm outside the city; and possibly raise pigeons and doves, a not uncommon industry among the Italian peasantry. Having established his identity with his father, Launcelot proceeds to tell him of his intention to run away from the Jew's service, and we gather his reason to be, that he does not get sufficient food to satisfy his youthful appetite; but perhaps the fact that the Lord Bassanio is engaging servants, and giving them "rare new liveries," may be the temptation. The contemptuous reference to the Jewish race by this ignorant boy, and his vulgar pun on the word Jew are significant indications of the general prejudice against the Jews at this period; not only in Venice, but in all parts of the civilized world.

Well, well; but, for mine own part, as I have set up my rest to run away, so I will not rest till I have run some ground. My master's a very Jew; give him a present! give him a halter; I am famish in his service; you may tell every finger I have with my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come; give me your present to one Master Bassanio, who indeed gives rare new liveries; if I serve not him, I will run as far as God has any ground. - O rare fortune! here comes the man: - to him, father; for I am a Jew if I serve the Jew any longer. The interview between Old Gobbo, his son, and the Lord Bassanio is delightfully entertaining. Launcelot's usual volubility halts in the presence of the young nobleman, and his father's assistance becomes necessary to prefer the suit "impertinent" to himself, and express "the very defect of the matter." However, the suit is granted, and Launcelot is instructed to take leave of his old master, and report at the lodgings of his new employer.

The self-satisfaction of Master Launcelot at his success is most humorously expressed, and with an egotism equally amusing; while his optimistic views of the future, obtained from the lines in his hand, indicate a confidence in the science of palmistry, which the author evidently does not share. Father, in. - I cannot get a service, no; I have ne'er a tongue in my head. - Well, if any man in Italy have a fairer table, which doth offer to swear upon a book! - I shall have good fortune. - Go to, here's a simple line of life; here's a small trifle of wives; alas! fifteen wives is nothing! eleven widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one man; and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be in peril of my life from the edge of a feather bed, - here are simple 'scapes. Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear. - Father, come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.

Notwithstanding his scruples of conscience that caused him so much anxiety, when we first met him, Launcelot has not been entirely loyal to his master, and on leaving we find him secretly bearing a letter from Jessica, the Jew's daughter, to her young Christian lover, Lorenzo. The missive requires a reply which Launcelot obtains verbally, and the cunning young rascal cleverly manages to convey it to the young Jewess, while bearing an invitation to her father, from his new master, Bassanio. His words are not brilliant, but serve to indicate his ingenuity. Mistress, look out at window, for all this; There will come a Christian by, Will be worth a Jewess' eye. Launcelot accompanies his new master to Belmont, where on our next meeting we find him comfortably installed; very much at home, and in a new livery. He is still bandying words with Jessica, who is now the wife of Lorenzo, and, in the absence of Portia, mistress of the house. His self-esteem seems to have grown in his new service, his vocabulary has increased, and he speaks with more authority, but with the same unfortunate propensity for punning.

He is obviously favored by his "betters," and like many others of small mind takes advantage of that fact to speak with a freedom that is not entirely devoid of impudence. However, his humor atones for much, and his good-nature accomplishes the rest. The dialogue quoted (with some slight eliminations) below takes place in the garden of Portia's house (Act 3, Scene 5). It is apparently the continuation of a discussion of the old theme of Jessica's parentage, and her father's sins; Launcelot taking a literal view of the scriptural precept in her case. Laun. Yes, truly; for, look you, the sins of the father are to be laid upon the children; therefore, I promise you, I fear you. I was always plain with you, and so now I speak my agitation of the matter; therefore, be of good cheer; for, truly, I think thou art damned. There is but one hope in it that can do you any good. Jess. And what hope is that, I pray thee? Laun. Marry, you may partly hope that you are not the Jew's daughter. Jess. So the sins of my mother should be visited on me.

Laun. Truly then I fear you are damned both by father and mother; thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother; well, you are gone both ways. Jess. I shall be saved by my husband; he hath made me a Christian. Laun. Truly, the more to blame he; we were Christians enow before; e'en as many as could well live, one by another. This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we grow all to be porkeaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money. The entrance of Lorenzo puts an end to Launcelot's calamitous predictions, and that gentleman having little appreciation of the latter's verbal fooling, directs him. "Go in, sirrah: bid them prepare for dinner." To which the irrepressible Launcelot replies: "That is done, sir; they have all stomachs." With some impatience, Lorenzo exclaims: "Goodly Lord, what a wit-snapper art thou!

then bid them prepare dinner." This does not discourage the boy, who responds: "That is done too, sir; only, cover is the word." Lorenzo, with some irritation, seeks to bring this equivocation to a close, and now gives his directions with emphasis: "I pray thee, understand a plain man in his plain meaning; go to thy fellows, bid them cover the table, serve in the meat, and we will come in to dinner." The imperturbable self-esteem and good-nature of Launcelot is proof, however, against censure or sarcasm; and with unruffled gravity he replies with humorous iteration: "For the table, sir, it shall be served in; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be as humors and conceits shall govern." And having thus delivered himself, Launcelot makes a dignified exit from the scene. Lorenzo's apostrophe to Launcelot's discourse is an admirable summary of the shallow mind, that mistakes the mere jugglery of words for wit.

It was a favorite method of Shakespeare's to furnish humor in his "simples" and serving men, and proved an amusing diversion in their mouths: but, in others, it is the unconscious tribute that ignorance and incapacity pays to knowledge and distinction. Lor. O dear discretion, how his words are suited! The fool hath planted in his memory An army of good words; and I do know A many fools that stand in better place, Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word Defy the matter. Launcelot makes one more brief appearance, to announce the early return of Bassanio to Belmont, and as a harbinger of glad tidings we leave him in the service of a noble master and a gracious mistress. The business of the Shakespearean clowns is traditional. It has been handed down by comedians from generation to generation. It was familiar to every stage manager of experience, in the days of the resident stock company; and any departure from the conventional business of these parts was, until recently, viewed with disapproval, and regarded as presumption. A most interesting and unique performance of Launcelot Gobbo was given some years ago by that sterling character actor, Mr.

Robert Peyton Carter, so long associated with Miss Maude Adams. I was the Shylock of the performance to which I refer. Mr. Carter's Launcelot was not a boy, but a humorous and mischievous young man. At no time during the performance, even when trembling with fear before his master, was a smile absent from his face; with this result, the audience were smiling all the time Launcelot was in view. You knew, as you looked at him during his self-argument between duty and inclination, that his mind was already made up to run away, and that his conscientious scruples (if he really ever had any) were overcome before he uttered them. His practical jest with his father, when he misdirects him to the Jew's house, indicated that it was but a sample of the pranks the young man had played upon him all his life, and the bright twinkle in his eyes as his young mistress called him "a merry devil" connoted a thousand tricks that the young rascal had played during the term of his service in the Jew's house and robbed that somewhat dreary residence of its "taste of tediousness." Mr.

Carter's business on the delivery of Jessica's letter to Lorenzo was original and good; his exaggerated obeisance to the several friends in company with that gentleman being particularly characteristic and happy. In the last act of the comedy, too frequently omitted in representation, Mr. Carter's appreciation of Shakespearean humor was manifest. The importance of his new employment, his vanity in his "rare new livery," and confidence of privileged service were delightfully presented, and rounded out a performance as notable as it was consistent and effective. "The Merchant of Venice" held an important place in the repertoire of the late Mr. Richard Mansfield. In discussing the various characters in the play with that distinguished gentleman, he told me he considered the Launcelot Gobbo of Mr. A. G. Andrews, of his company, the best he had ever seen. It did not surprise me, for I knew Mr. Andrews to be a thorough and painstaking artist, studying out to the most minute detail every point of his make-up, costume and business. Mr. Andrews presented Launcelot as a boy to whom life was a very serious problem.

His costume was extremely characteristic; his doublet and trunks were worn and patched, his hose seamed and darned, and his sandal-shoes with their leather straps had seen service hard and long. He made his first entrance from his master's house hastily, then looked round fearfully and, finding himself unobserved, sat down upon the door-step and seriously held self-communion as to the justice of leaving his master's service. In other respects he followed the traditional business of the part; but nothing was exaggerated, rather subdued; his object being to present Launcelot as a possible human being, and not an impossible clown, as many comedians have done. The humor of the part was always present, never intruded, but conveyed naturally and without effort: the result being a well proportioned and artistic performance. How to cite this article: Warde, Frederick. The Fools of Shakespeare. London: McBride, Nast & Company, 1915. Shakespeare Online. 20 Feb. 2011. (date when you accessed the information) < >. ______ Explain the interaction between Launcelot and Old Gobbo in Act II Scene ii of The Merchant of Venice.

| eNotes Explain the interaction between Launcelot and Old Gobbo in Act II Scene ii of The Merchant of Venice. gpane | College Teacher | (Level 3) Senior Educator Posted on November 8, 2013 at 12:16 PM The interaction between Lancelot and his father, Old Gobbo, in this scene, is based on a comic misunderstanding: Old Gobbo is nearly blind and does not even recognise his own son. Lancelot therefore decides to have some fun with him. He asks Lancelot where his son is and Lancelot pretends he is dead. Old Gobbo is shocked, as he was relying on his son for support in his old age. Lancelot finally drops the pretence, but at first Old Gobbo still does not recognise him. When he finally does, Lancelot admits he’s thinking of leaving Shylock, who is a hard master. He wants to serve Bassanio instead. Bassanio coincidentally turns up, and old Gobbo and his son manage to persuade him to take Lancelot on.

The interaction between Lancelot and old Gobbo in this scene largely serves as an occasion for comedy. Lancelot, the Clown, is an established comic character with his witty and ironic observances of other characters and his constant wordplay. This is most evident in this scene in his exchanges with his father, where the element of confusion and misunderstanding increases the comedy of the situation. The scene is of a common type in Shakespearean plays, where lower-class, often vulgar characters provide some comic relief in the form of slapstick and witty worldplay. Yet even amidst the often raucous comedy, such characters often express sombre truths, as here, when Lancelot remarks that: Nay, indeed if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me. It is a wise father that knows his own child. Lancelot observes that even if his father could see properly, he might still not be able to recognise his son – that is to say, he still might not be able to understand him, to really know him. Lancelot here alludes to his earlier characterization of his father as a bit less than honest and contrasts his father's traits with "wise": Shakespeare Quotes: The truth will out Intro I'm Lancelot.

I'm a servant and clown, but my real job is fooling around, making smart-aleck comments, and bagging on other characters. And you know what I think? Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes, you might fail of the knowing me: it is a wise father that knows his own child. Well, old man, I will tell you news of your son: give me your blessing: truth will come to light; murder cannot be hid long; a man's son may, but at the length truth will out. (2.2.69-74) Who Said It and Where Lancelot Gobbo, Shylock's servant, hates his job. But can you blame him? Shylock is condescending, particular, and just plain rude. Lancelot stands before Shylock's house, having a very serious and hilariously muddled conversation with himself about his desire to quit his job. He says his conscience tells him to stay with Shylock out of loyalty, but some fiend in his brain is telling him he should run away. His reasoning's a bit crooked here.

Since his conscience tells him to stay with the devil incarnate, clearly the thing to do is run away, loyalty be damned. Just then Old Gobbo—Lancelot's dad, who is mostly blind—shows up looking for his son. He can't tell that he's talking to his son because he's blind and all. Lancelot decides to have some fun with his father before he reveals his identity (what a meanie). He teases that the old man should speak of "Master" Lancelot, not just Lancelot. Old Gobbo is quick to point out that young Gobbo is no Master Lancelot, but just plain old Lancelot, the son of a poor man. Aw, shucks, he didn't go for it. So Lancelot tries something else. He tells Old Gobbo the oh so hilarious joke that his son is dead. Lancelot finally reveals who he is, and there's much ado about how much he's grown. Old Gobbo has brought Shylock a present, and Lancelot suggests his dad give the present to Bassanio instead, as Bassanio is Lancelot's new chosen master.

Being Shylock's servant has left him in such a state that you can count each of his ribs (i.e., he's not paid enough to eat properly). Shakespeare's Comedy The Merchant of Venice - Launcelot Gobbo's soliloquy Explanatory Notes for Act 2, Scene 2 From The Merchant of Venice. Ed. Felix E. Schelling. New York: American Book Co. The old stage direction reads: "Enter the Clowne alone." This term, like the term fool, was carelessly employed in Shakespeare's time. Launcelot is neither a fool nor a clown within the strict meaning of either word. The student is advised not to try too narrowly to make sober sense out of Shakespeare's inimitable nonsense. Logic is not Launcelot's forte; and as to some of his phrases, we may well echo Dr. Furness's warning in the words of Bottom: "Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this." In this scene Launcelot changes his service from Shylock to Bassanio, and Gratiano is granted his suit to accompany Bassanio to Belmont. 9. scorn running with thy heels.

To scorn a thing with the heels, to kick at it, was a proverbial saying. Compare Much Ado About Nothing, iii. 4. 51: "I scorn that with my heels." 11. Via! Italian for away; and very commonly employed. 12. for the heavens, for heaven's sake. 17. did something smack [of the knave] ... grow to, has been explained as "a household phrase applied to milk when burnt to the bottom of the saucepan, and thence acquiring an unpleasant taste." 25. God bless [or save] the mark, is used as a parenthetical excuse for the use of a profane or disrespectful word. Launcelot is here waggishly apologizing for using the word devil. Compare the clause, "Saving your reverence," below, line 27, used in precisely the same manner. 29. incarnal, Launcelot means incarnate. The "nice derangement of epitaphs," as Mrs. Malaprop afterwards called this use of a word of similar sound but of different sense for ludicrous effect, is very common in the old drama. 37. sand-blind, purblind, half-blind.

Compare stone-blind, wholly blind; high-gravel-blind is of course Launcelot's jest. 39. confusions, Launcelot's word for conclusions; but Launcelot's conclusions are confusions, as the rest of this interview discloses. 44. marry, originally Mary, a remnant like by'r Lady (by our Lady), God's sonties below, and dear me (Deus meus) of a ruder age in which everyday conversation was interlarded with oaths. These terms had by Shakespeare's day ceased to have more force than mere exclamatory phrases or expletives. 47. sonties. Variously derived from sanctities or from saints, saunties, little saints. Compare by'r Lakin, "by our Ladikin." 55. well to live, with every prospect of living long. 58. Your worship's friend and Launcelot, sir. Launcelot whimsically endeavors to get his father to speak of him as Master Launcelot, which his father is unwilling to do out of respect for his "worship," whom he thinks he is addressing. 59.

But I pray you, ergo, old man. Launcelot is not without some sense of the meaning of the learned word which he uses. I pray you, ergo [for that reason, because he is my worship's friend, call him] Master Launcelot. But enough: Launcelot is trying his "confusions" on us as well as on his father. 61. an't, if it. 64. father, a general term used in addressing old men. Gobbo does not as yet recognize his mischievous son. 71. hovel-post, post supporting a shed. 82. give me your blessing. Here, according to an old stage tradition, Launcelot kneels with his back to his father, who, groping about, touches his son's long hair, and mistaking it for a beard, of which Launcelot has no sign, says, "Pray you, sir, stand up: I am sure you are not Launcelot, my boy." See below lines 86-91. 100. fill-horse, shaft-horse. 110.

set up my rest, a phrase taken from the fashionable game of primero , signifying, to stand by the cards one has in one's hand; and hence to determine, make up one's mind. 114. tell, count. 115. give me [i.e. for my benefit] your present. The old dative of the personal pronoun is often used where we should use for me or to me; sometimes where the word would seem unnecessary to the modern reader. Compare the phrase, "Do me a favor." 115. your present. Old Gobbo is the bearer of a gift from the country to Shylock, Launcelot's master. This gift Launcelot diverts to Bassanio, with whom he desires to take service. 119. I am a Jew. An asseveration used elsewhere. Compare Much Ado About Nothing, ii. 3. 272: "If I do not love her, I am a Jew." 121. The old editions read, "Enter Bassanio with a follower or two." 121. hasted, hastened. 123. put the liveries to making, have the liveries made.

The old termination en was often confused with ing in Elizabethan English. 125. anon, at once. 128. Gramercy! French grand merci, much thanks. 133. infection, for affection, desire. 139. cater-cousins, a word of doubtful derivation and original meaning, applied to persons on intimate terms with each other, and used occasionally as if synonymous with cousins-germain. It has been thought that the word is connected with cate or cake, and caterer; and means mess-fellows. 142. fruitify, for certify. 152. defect, for effect. 155. preferr'd, recommended for promotion. 158. The old proverb. Launcelot alludes to the saying, "The grace of God is gear [wealth] enough." 162. inquire...out, seek by asking. 164. guarded, trimmed with braid. 166. Well, if any man, etc. Table is the palm of the hand in chiromancy or palmistry. Take the relative which as referring to table and in the causal relation equivalent to for it doth.

The meaning of the passage then is: There is no hand in Italy offering fairer signs of palmistry than mine, for it doth offer to swear upon a book that I shall have good fortune. 169. Go to, equivalent to our Come, come. To is here an adverb. Compare its use to "to and fro," and the nautical expressions, "heave to, come to." 169. a simple line of life, literally a mean, poor line of life. But Launcelot is speaking ironically in reference to his good fortune. The line of life is the circular line surrounding the thumb. The table line or line of fortune runs from the forefinger, below the other three fingers, to the side of the hand. Launcelot pretends to be reading his own fortune by palmistry, and discovers that he is to be married fifteen times, and other like matters. 176. gear, matter. 178. Notice how the play falls again into blank verse with the departure of the low comedy of Launcelot from the scene. 194. liberal, licentious. 196. skipping spirit. We should say vivacious or frivolous temper.

Compare 1 Henry IV, iii. 2. 60: "The skipping king, he ambled up and down." Spirit is pronounced as one syllable. See below, v. 1. 86. 202, 203. hood mine eyes Thus with my hat. Hats were commonly worn by all persons of station at dinner. To take off the hat, except for courtesy in company, was an acknowledgment of inferiority. 205. ostent, appearance. Compare below, ii. 8. 44: "Fair ostents of love." _______ How to cite the explanatory notes: Shakespeare, William. The Merchant of Venice. Ed. Felix E. Schelling. New York: American Book Co., 1903. Shakespeare Online. 20 Feb. 2011. (date when you accessed the information) < >. ______ Merchant Analysis Merchant of Venice: An Analysis of Scenes Act II, scene ii Launcelot Gobbo is often mentioned with his namesake from The Two Gentlemen of Verona as part of that very small company of Shakespeare's unfunny clowns.

Some critics have dismissed him as nothing more than a sop to the clown of Shakespeare's company--Will Kempe--and some directors have dismissed him from the stage altogether, e. g. Jonathan Miller in the National Theatre film of the play. Is there any good reason why Launcelot should not be cut, or at least humanized, harmonized (and given a guitar) as he was in the 1981 RSC production? Must he draw out his quips to the crack of doom as he does in the BBC version of the play (interestingly enough also directed by Jonathan Miller)? In few, what is the use of him? The first part of scene two runs from the beginning to line thirty, and in it Launcelot is engaged in the traditional morality play debate between the devil of temptation and the angel of conscience. The point on which they disagree is whether or not Launcelot should leave his master, the Jew.

This subscene does several things: it provides a bit of comic business for the actor, it suggests the difficulty of making a choice when disloyalty to someone or something may be found on either side, and it prepares for another person who will have to choose between staying with the Jew and running away--Shylock's charming daughter, Jessica. Ruth Nevo says (Comic Transformations in Shakespeare) "that Launcelot Gobbo's parodic function appears to be mainly directed to underscoring the desertion of Shylock the father." (p. 131) I heartily agree that Launcelot is intimately connected with Jessica and that much of what he does underscores and explicates her actions, but I think that Launcelot is meant to make Jessica's reputation more lustrous, not to tarnish her for filial impiety. A production without Launcelot removes several direct and indirect props that hold Jessica up in the audience's esteem. (Who says John Lyly's influence stopped with Samuel Johnson?) The first of these is his decision to leave Shylock, being true to himself though disloyal to his present master.

The second is the second subscene which runs from line 31 to line 108. In this section Launcelot fools his father, teases him rather cruelly, denies his own identity, denies that he is his father's son, suggests that his father (if perchance he is his father) is a rather wicked old man, and then finally, emphatically affirms his own identity and that of his own "true-begotten father." This does a number of things: it suggests that fathers are fallible and sometimes even foolish, it presents a picture (comic though it is) of a child finding himself by first denying his father and then taking up the relationship, and it gives us the only image in the play of a father and a child who basically (under the surface tensions and teasings) like each other. Old Gobbo's grief at his son's supposed death and his cheerful willingness to help that son get what he wants in spite of all practical jokes is a sharp contrast to Shylock's treatment of and reaction to his child. Launcelot and Old Gobbo are kind in both the modern and Elizabethan senses of that word, as Shylock most definitely is not.

In case we miss the parallels between Jessica and Launcelot, Shakespeare has reminded us of them in III, v, where Jessica is drawn into a sort of morality debate as Launcelot has been, and where it is suggested, as it was with Launcelot, that her father may not be her father. Section three runs from line 109 to Launcelot's exit with Gobbo at line 160. It has demonstrated, among other things, that however else the two Gobbos may be related, they are certainly allied in their misdemeanors against the English language. It also gives Launcelot the chance in his concluding speech from line 149 to 160 to parody (as Ruth Nevo points out, p. 115) the propensity of everybody in Merchant to take large risks and put their fortunes to the test. He has also begun to show himself as something more than a clown, meaning a simpleton from the country who is stupid and therefore funny, and is very possibly (I am agreeing with John R. Brown here in his notes to the Arden edition) on his way to becoming a full-fledged fool, complete with motley coat.

It is appropriate that this scene ends with a mention of Lorenzo and the preparation for Jessica's elopement. Scenes three and four continue this theme, and in scene three Jessica tells us a good deal about her relationship with her father and with Launcelot: "Our house is hell, and thou (a merry devil)/" [Note the recurring devil theme.], "Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness ..." There is a suggestion here that they have been friends because fellow sufferers--an emotional undertone that can perhaps be picked up in Lorenzo's joking references to his jealousy of Launcelot in III, v (Indeed, the 1981 RSC production stopped just short of making this hint a fact). Launcelot's departure must make us sympathize with the young girl who is left in that gloomy, Puritanical house. Could Launcelot's decision have been the last, small emotional weight that tipped the scales for Jessica? It is not provable, but it fits neatly with the other connections between the two. Act II, scene v The first section of scene five runs from the beginning to line 9.

Shylock points out that Launcelot will see the difference between his old master and his new one; the audience may also be ready to make a comparison between this father and Old Gobbo. Certainly, Shylock's shouting impatience does not make a good impression. Jessica enters on line 10, the beginning of part two of this scene (which ends at line 42 with Launcelot's exit). Shylock loads her with orders and advice; she is scarcely able to speak more lines now she is on stage than she was before her entrance. There is no warmth between the two of them, and all of Shylock's worry (during a sequence when he is breaking one of the laws of his religion for the sake of wasting Bassanio's substance) is for his house, not for his daughter. His foreboding dream has, in all probability, come from subconscious perceptions of what is happening around him, but he is blinder than old Gobbo to the true identity of his child, and so the dream becomes a mummery of superstitions properly (and cleverly in the rather dangerous circumstances) parodied by Launcelot.

Launcelot, who is acting as go-between for Lorenzo, conveys a message to Jessica as he leaves, and we are in the penultimate section of the scene, which runs from line 43 to Shylock's exit at line 54. The section is interesting because Jessica tells her father a direct lie in response to a suspicious question--the first time in the scene that he has paused for her to speak. He goes on to admit (what the audience has learned by now) that Launcelot is kind, which tends to reinforce our belief in Launcelot and consequently his judgment of Shylock. We are, therefore, prepared, I think, to sympathize with Jessica in the last section of this scene which is just two lines long but leads on to extended troubles for Shylock, Antonio, Bassanio, and the others who are bound together in this tangle of loyalties and disloyalties. Perhaps something should be said about Launcelot's transformation, even though the change is not complete until III, v. What happens seems to bear out John R.

Brown's theory of Gobbo's shift from clown to fool, and the evidence is as Hamlet would put it, "Words, words, words." In II, ii Launcelot says "true begotten father" and uses "incarnation" when he means "incarnate." He drops "ergo" into his speeches as though it were a sort of counter to fill up space. Only one of his mistakings, "I'll try confusions with him," where he means "conclusions" has that underlying turn of sense about it that makes the audience wonder if the mistake was deliberate. He is still blundering in his first speech to Bassanio, where he uses "fruitify" for "signify" and seems his father's son in word as well as deed. But also in his encounter with Bassanio he offers his first really clever speech, "The old proverb is very well parted between my master Shylock and you, sir.

you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath enough." Bassanio commends him for it, and gives instructions to another servant that Launcelot should have "a livery more guarded than his fellows," which may be a reference to a licensed fool's motley. In II, iii with Jessica, Launcelot is still mixing things up. He says "exhibit" for "inhibit." In II, v, Launcelot, who is now officially Bassanio's man, answers Shylock's "Who bids thee call?" with "Your worship was wont to tell me I could do nothing without bidding," which is a very palpable hit. His only mistake in this scene is "My young master doth expect your reproach," when he means "approach," and it is certainly arguable that Bassanio is as likely to get the former as the latter. By III, v, Launcelot has become a twister of words to his own uses, what Feste would call a "corrupter of words." Is he now a licensed fool who must suit himself to the clothes he wears? His exchange with Lorenzo argues no less.

But more than the issue of Launcelot's possible switch from clown to fool is the issue of Launcelot's improvement. Has Bassanio's service made him brighter than he was before or merely given his wits, which fusted unused with Shylock, the exercise they needed? If Launcelot has improved, will we find that Jessica has paralleled him in this as she has in so many other things? And is Launcelot's new understanding yet another condemnation of Shylock's darkness? Shylock is, after all, the most literal and miserly word user in the play. Perhaps the answer to these questions lies in the duet between Lorenzo and Jessica in V, i. Copyright ï¿½ 1997 by Ace G. Pilkington

Question: Who was the master of 'Lancelot Gobbo'?
Answer: 'SHYLOCK'